


my head is full of you (but my arms are empty)

by occhiolist



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Arguing, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-29 18:47:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15079379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/occhiolist/pseuds/occhiolist
Summary: "I wanted to convince myself that you didn't mean anything to me, since I apparently didn't mean anything to you. But I was lying."peter learns lessons in honesty. wade gets dragged along for the ride.as usual.





	my head is full of you (but my arms are empty)

**Author's Note:**

> it seems like i only know how to write conflict i swear i'm not a one-trick pony  
> (i think)  
> (White)  
> [Yellow]  
> based on the heated argument prompts: "how does that feel?", "is that how little you think of me?", "i have a right to be angry", & "you ruined everything".  
> ty 4 readin

Wade didn't really know how it started, just that it'd escalated way too quickly. Now they were both pissed, and here he was sitting on a 14th Road rooftop, flipping a lighter on and off with enough force to scrape the pad of his thumb each time. Not that it mattered. 

Peter had walked into his apartment an hour later than what was typical that night, and Wade had been in his kitchen, cooking some stroganoff recipe he'd found in the cookbook Peter'd bought him as a poke at National Cooking Day, one of the stupid holidays on his Political Philosophy teacher's mini calendar that resided on his desk facing the students. Sure, it was funny, but Wade found it more likely that Peter just wanted him to make him food more often- and Wade loved cooking, especially for his darling of a boyfriend, so it was a win-win situation, really. At least, it had been. But when said boyfriend came home, notably late, he wasn't in the mood for Wade or his cooking. 

"Baby!" The ex-merc had exclaimed, flipping a piece of meat in the pan in front of him as he heard the front door open. "I'm in the kitchen!" Peter walked in, dumping his key ring on the counter unceremoniously. "You're late," Wade noted. "Everything okay?"

The younger narrowed his eyes at him. "We didn't have plans."

Wade blinked. "When do we ever, really?"

"Oh, is that it, then? Should I just come straight home every day as soon as class is out in case you decide to cook on a whim? Should I not do things like a grown man does, when I feel like it?"

The older dropped the wooden spoon and turned fully to stare at Peter. After a few moments of not saying anything, the hero spat out, "What?"

"What's wrong?"

"Oh my god, Wade, nothing is 'wrong'."

"Okay. So should I assume you intended to be an asshole to me just now for no reason?"

Peter glared at him. "I'm not an asshole. I asked simple questions."

Wade sighed and turned back to the pan. "Did something happen in class? Or with Stark?"

"I told you, nothing happened!" Peter shoved a can of broth off the counter where Wade had materials sitting, pulling coffee powder from the above cabinet. He'd already grabbed a cup and water before Wade shrugged off his shock and asked, unobtrusively, what he was doing. "Making coffee, obviously," Peter responded.

The anti-hero nodded. "Yeah, I can see that. But I'm cooking..?" The half-spider shrugged with one brow raised, as if gesturing, 'And?' The former frowned. "You never eat after you drink that shitty coffee."

Peter looked at him. "I'm not hungry." He finished making the drink, then walked away, not putting the container back, and Wade was utterly confused and a little hurt, now. Peter was always hungry. The kid ate like a fucking elephant. He'd only turned down food from his boyfriend once, and that was when he'd gotten a swift four kicks to the ribs during a particularly unsavory meeting with some alley roaming robbers. Right now, Wade had the distinctly haunting feeling of not being wanted, which was like a kick to the stomach himself, after the lovely way things had been going for the last few months. Sure. Peter sometimes got stressed out with his Masters' classes and working under Tony, but he'd never just lashed out at his partner for no clear reason. Despite this, Wade figured maybe he could coax it out of him, so he turned the heat down to simmer on the stove and walked over to where his boyfriend was sitting, ontop of the coffee table in the living room. He leaned on the couch across from him. "Hey."

"What?" Peter said back tonelessly. Wade moved to run a hand on his flannel-clad arm. [That's ours.] The man smiled lightly at the thought, but just as soon, the other moved away quickly. "Don't touch me."

Wade pulled back as if he'd been burned. "Petey-"

"Don't 'Petey' me. Leave me the fuck alone, Wade, stop talking to me."

"What's your problem, Pete?"

"My problem-" the pale man gritted out, "is you constantly being on me. I can't fucking breathe. Can't come to my own apartment and have peace 'cause you're always waiting up on me. Asking me where I've been like you own me or something."

"What the fuck?" Wade choked on the words as they entered the space between them. "Like I own you? I don't- I would never- I didn't mean-"

"No, of course you didn't mean to say it like that, act like that, do anything like that. You never mean anything." Peter was standing now, a look in his eyes that was bitter and angry, while Wade was still reeling. 

He shook his head, trying to wrap his mind around what was happening. "Peter, baby-"

"Don't call me that!" The younger shouted, knocking into the mug of coffee. It fell to the floor, not breaking, but spilling out completely. There was a moment of quiet as they both stared at the mess.

"Peter." Wade said lowly. "I don't understand." He popped his knuckle with slight anxiety. "Whatever I did, I'm kind of gonna need you to tell me, because right now you're just yelling at me and not helping anything-"

"Not helping anything? Right, no, I'm not surprised at you acting like it's all nothing. You're just gonna pretend like how I feel isn't anything, like I don't have a right to say-"

"Say what? The shit you've been saying? Because yeah, you can feel whatever you wanna feel, but you don't have a right to be an utter dick about whatever it is when I'm just trying to help you."

"Fuck off," Peter said acidicly. "I don't want your help. I should never have dated you."

Wade sucked in a breath quickly, then laughed, almost brokenly. "Yeah, well, that's funny. Told you you'd regret it from the beginning."

"Guess that's one thing you got right."

The ex-mercenary's chest burned, and something felt like it snapped inside of him. He snatched his mask from where it'd been discarded early that afternoon and shoved it over his face, and leaned over Peter, who shrunk back minutely. That alone ripped Deadpool to shreds, but he said nothing, grabbing his twin katanas from against the TV behind Peter, like he'd intended. He glanced at the other man for no more than a moment, then pulled open the door and walked out of it. He let it slam behind him. 

[Peter is gonna get a complaint from the neighbors for that one.]

(Who's supposed to care?) 

Not Wade. 

-

Wade flicked the lighter on once more, watching the flame gas up and waver in the light breeze. The yellow-blue flickered slightly, dancing, and he considered how it was just as easy for what had made him so happy to burn up as it was for the fire to be lit. It was dark now, middle of the night, a few people trailing the streets but none with any good kind of business, the stars shining. Wade saw nothing but the lighter in front of him. He didn't hear the footsteps behind him, didn't notice the extra presence.

"We usually meet on 2nd Avenue."

Deadpool swallowed, swiftly thumbing out the flame, but not moving from where he sat. "Precisely."

A scuffle of feet behind him. "What was your plan? Avoid me and burn something?"

He scoffed. "If I was going to burn anything else, I would have already. And I'm not sure how you can guilt me for 'avoiding'."

"Anything else?"

He lifted his right hand above his head to show the singed fingertip. A soft sigh came in response. He tensed up at the familiar sound. "Why did you find me?"

"I wasn't done speaking."

He huffed out a laugh, shooting up suddenly. He faced Spider-Man, who watched him with wide eyes.

(He's always wide-eyed. His eyes are like fucking saucers with that mask on.) 

"What is it that you forgot to say to me? Did you want to tell me that I was right about those other things, too? That you've really always hated me, maybe that you got with me out of pity, or because you felt guilty, that I hold you back and are ridiculously overbearing and you're now at the point where you suddenly just can't fuckin' stand me?" He was shaking, but grinned destitutely. "Did that help any?"

The hero was silent.

Deadpool shook his head disbelievingly for the second time that night. Then, "I'm not stupid, Pool. Not anymore, at least."

[No, you're a genius, baby. You never have been anything else.]

(Only when he was lovin' on us, apparently.) 

Spider-Man stepped closer. "You really thought," he said, raising a finger to point at the other masked man, "that you would get one over on me. I trusted you. I let myself fall for you. I thought we really, really had something-"

[So do we!]

"-and then you went and fucking ruined everything. Because you just couldn't settle for what you had with me."

What.

The thing was, Wade knew that he was all sorts of fucked. It was in his genes, or his cells, take your warped up pick. He knew he had less than passionate morality. He knew he could be a monster, and was seen as one. But this? Blaming his insecurities for Peter deciding he didn't want anything to do with him anymore? It didn't feel right. Not from him. Not... after everything. But maybe that was what he had coming. 

"But it doesn't matter. I don't need you either. I can- I can find-" Peter's breaths were quickening, like he was crying, and Wade willed himself not to worry. "I can find somebody else too. I don't need this. Or you. You don't get to have both. So fuck you, Wade Wilson. I hope you're happy, now that you ruined everything."

Find somebody else. He wants to find somebody else.

(No, he's accusing us of cheating. As if there's somebody else who'd want you.) 

Wade felt like his entire being had been sawed in two.

"Jesus fucking christ, Peter, are you kidding me?"

Said hero ripped the mask off of his face, brown hair tumbling down messily. His eyes were red and raw and shining, but he was still angry. "What? You didn't think I'd find out? You thought I was dumb enough to believe-"

"Who the fuck would I cheat on you with? Who would be that important, who else would even- no. That entire fucking thing was because you think I'm cheating? Where did you come up with that?"

Peter stilled. Swallowed. Chest heaving. "They told me," he hissed. "Told me about- about last week, when you guys were in Zimbabwe, and-and you went off with- what was his name? Cable? Had drinks, and you charmed the shit out of him and they told me about your history, which you never told me-"

'They' likely being Clint and Tony, whom he'd accompanied on a diplomatic meeting with the unruly South African government. He hadn't expected Cable to be there, he'd been thrown off, but he had told himself he had no reason to be, because he was there professionally, and bad blood didn't mean shit when his Spidey was back home. So the four of them had gotten drinks, because Nate was their in- Deadpool knew he could get him to assist them if he played things right, could make this whole process go way smoother. When he'd gotten home, he'd omitted talking about it to Peter because it hadn't been important and he just wanted to be near him. Now, his 'associates' bit him in the ass. 

[My money is on Clint.]

(Are you serious? Stark is always all up in our business. There's no way it wasn't him.) 

Deadpool let out the huge breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. He didn't know how to explain this without Peter staying pissed, and frankly, now that he knew what was happening, he was pretty pissed himself. He didn't realize he'd been silent for several minutes till the spider spoke again.

"You aren't gonna deny it."

"Peter," Wade said hotly. The younger was taken aback by the aggression, but covered it up quickly. "You wanna know what I think?"

The pale man's jaw tightened, as if he was trying to stand his ground or bite his tongue. "What? What do you think?"

"I think that you're the most brilliant person I know, but you drive me insane." The surprised look that crossed his face made Deadpool want to smile, but he didn't, because he had a shit ton of other emotions happening here and he needed to focus. "I didn't cheat on you. Honestly, do you really think that little of me?"

The man gripped at his hair and threw his head back. "What am I supposed to think?"

"You could have a little faith in me. You could've maybe thought about all the shit we've done and said and considered asking me directly before you went on about how much you hate me. But," he went on, watching a confusion of guilt and bitterness cross Peter's face, "I get how you must be feeling. And you have a right to be pissed at me, because on some level, I did fuck up." He flipped the lighter that still sat in his left hand, then looked the spider-man in the eyes, coming slightly closer. "But ba- Peter. Nothing happened. God, I can't even- I'm sorry. The idea of even thinking about getting down 'n' dirty with anybody else-" he laughed. "It's not funny. but it wouldn't even happen in my dreams. I was so fuckin' committed to you, sweetcheeks. Like, I'm always thinkin' about you, even when you aren't with me. Which is why I get it, I guess, when you said I was around too much. Heh. Meanwhile, I keep thinkin' I'm not around enough."

"Wade."

"Right, no, anyways. What happened with Cable was business shit. Like, I wanted to play him a little bit so we could get out of there quicker. I didn't know he was gonna be there, but I was gonna be damned if I was inconvenienced by it. I should've said something, but I didn't want you to worry about nothing, and when I got back, there was really no right time to say it, and I didn't really care enough to keep thinking about it, honestly. And then you found out from Tony, which was some fuckshit. You shouldn't of had to find out from anybody else, because then it sounds suspicious. But it wasn't. I swear it wasn't-"

"Wade!"

"Yeah. Sorry." He was drained anyways. That was a lot of emotional bullshit with a whole lot more of no reaction.

Peter fumbled for words. "I- uhm. You said... was." It sounded more like a question than a statement.

Deadpool frowned. "What?"

He kicked at a pebble littering the roof. More likely concrete. "You said was. Like. You were committed to me."

Wade nodded solemnly. "So fuckin' committed," he agreed.

"I shouldn't- I shouldn't have-" Tears were welling in Peter's eyes, and he scrubbed at them furiously, but Wade was already coming towards him in concern. He stepped back. "No, you're right. I probably should've said something, but we both know I have a habit of running with things." He chuckled weakly. "The shit I said-"

"Ah, it's cool. It's fine, really."

Peter shook his head adamantly. "No. It isn't."

They were both quiet, both feeling wrong, but not knowing how to move forward. "I think-"

"It's probably-" They broke off, laughing smally. Peter gestured towards Deadpool listlessly. "Go ahead."

"It'd probably be a good idea to get some air," he said, not watching Peter as he blinked. "We both fucked up a little bit, yeah, and we're both still kind of angry. And you weren't just saying things you didn't mean." At this, the other jumped to argue, but Deadpool was already walking away. "I'll let you be. See you around, Pete." And then he was gone.

Spider-Man stood on the rooftop, staring blankly at the spot where the man had just been, feeling worse than empty.

-

After a day and six hours, Peter reached out tentatively. He texted, hey. He didn't get anything back. All things considered, it was probably too casual. So the day after, as he finished brushing his teeth, he wrote again. I'm sorry. again.

Nothing.

Two days after that, he laid in bed, staring at the ceiling, and was suddenly hit with the fact that he felt incredibly fucking lonely, and he didn't know what he was doing. He didn't know what Deadpool had meant. Maybe his phone was off. Maybe he'd forgotten to text back. Maybe he'd seen the messages, but didn't feel like dealing with Peter because he was a dickhead and a self-righteous one at that. 

He texted again. I'm the world's biggest ass, but what's happening?

I mean, like. what are we doing? 

you weren't really specific.

And... nothing.

So on his way to the Tower the following morning, he called. "Hey, Pool," he said to the voicemail box. "I wasn't sure if maybe you didn't get my texts. Or you did. That's, uh. That's okay too. I just- I just wanted to talk to you. I know you said we're both angry and everything and it's a big mess but really, I'm not angry. Like, I was, yeah, totally, but I couldn't really be after it was a lot less than I thought and I said so many horrible things that weren't so bad when I said them but are really dickish now. Anyways. I'm not mad. I don't care about the Cable thing. I'm not even jealous or whatever. Just. Call me." He hung up feeling pretty stupid.

Tony hadn't brought up their discussion of Cable and Deadpool from earlier in the week since it happened, and hadn't said anything about Peter coming in with dark circles under his eyes each day since except to offer him coffee and ask if he wanted to go home early. Peter couldn't think of coffee without thinking of that stupid container he'd left sitting on the counter next to the box of pasta Wade had ready, so no, he didn't want any. He'd rather be working than home alone in the apartment that felt vast and empty, so no, he'd stay here, thanks. But the morning he called Deadpool, as he came in, Tony looked up, and Peter could tell he was expecting some talking. "Hey kid," 

"Hello, Mr. Stark."

He didn't have to turn around from his desk to know a frown was forming on his former mentor's rugged face. "Quit it with that, you're making me feel old. What's up?"

Peter bit his lip. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, you haven't said anything about Wade in days, so I'm assuming you confronted him about Zimbabwe."

He let out a dark laugh. "Yeah. I did that. It was a lot less scandalous than you were thinking."

The billionaire looked at him doubtfully. "You sure about that?"

"Pretty damn sure. In fact, I sounded like an idiot, and now he won't talk to me, so it didn't really accomplish much of anything." It came out more harshly than Peter had intended. "Sorry."

"It's okay. I guess I was wrong. Clint told me to stay out of it, but I didn't. I didn't wanna see you hurt, kid."

Peter smiled half-heartedly. "And I appreciate it, don't get me wrong. You looking out for me, I mean. I just got myself into a mess I wish I hadn't." He snorted. "But that has more to do with-"

"Your smart ass mouth, rather than you bringing it up with him?" Tony interjected. Peter stared at him. He started laughing, and Tony chuckled. But then he was still laughing, and suddenly he was crying, and Tony went wide-eyed, unsure what to do. "No, no, hey, buddy, it's okay. I'm sure he just needs some time, maybe he just died somewhere, you know Deadpool-"

Peter cried harder, and Tony grew frantic, just as Natasha walked in with Sam. "Oh, shit," Sam said upon hearing Peter's sobs. He glanced at Tony. "What'd you do to him?"

"Nothing!" Tony said loudly. "His boyfriend's ignoring him." Sam winced sympathetically.

Peter sniffled. "I don't even know if we are boyfriends anymore!" He shoved a sleeve over his face. "And he's not just ignoring me. I accused him of cheating, and told him to basically fuck off a lot." He closed his eyes, trying to block out the memory. "And that I'd find somebody-"

"You said you'd fuck somebody that isn't your boyfriend to your boyfriend and now you're upset that said boyfriend doesn't wanna talk to you?" Sam said incredulously. Peter stuttered. "NO! Oh, my God! Find! I said I'd find somebody else because I thought he cheated on me because that's what Tony told me."

Natasha considered this. "That probably wasn't the best move. But you were hurting. If he had cheated on you, that threat would've been better."

Peter huffed out a laugh. "Yeah. I tried."

Tony raised his hands in surrender. "Now hold on. When I told you, I also told you to talk to him about it, not bite his head off and make him eat it."

Sam scowled. "Have you met this kid? He blasted me with one of your ion ray things 'cause I ate the last of the turkey."

The other two looked at the youngest, who held up two fingers. "One: not a kid. Twenty-four."

"Sure sounded like a kid when you were cryin' like a baby just now," Sam grumbled.

Peter glared. "Two: that was accidentally." Sam looked appalled, about to argue, but was cut off as Peter added another finger. "And three, you're an asshole."

The Falcon threw up his hands when Tony nodded in agreement. He sought Natasha's support, but she only shrugged. "You weren't the only one who wanted turkey. I think you had it coming."

Peter cackled. He didn't think about it, but it was the first time in several days that he'd really laughed, and as Tony started talking about the cranberry sauce that had also mysteriously gone missing, he felt just a little less lonely.

-

"Mr. Parker," said a gruff voice that startled Peter as he was walking down the hall, three books in hand. 

"Shit!" He exclaimed, nearly dropping the books, facing the person behind him. He sighed in relief. "Oh, man, sorry. You scared me. Hi, Clint. What's up?"

"Didn't mean to scare you, sorry." Peter waved it off. "Tony told me you and Wade haven't been talking." The smile dropped off of Peter's face as he was reminded. It'd been over a week now. He wasn't exactly happy. He shrugged it off for Hawkeye, but the man continued. "I told him not to meddle, but I'm not surprised he did. Either way, you gotta know, Deadpool isn't gonna just crawl back to you."

Peter felt like he'd been punched. "Wh-what? I'm not expecting him to." He glowered at Clint. "I've texted or called him nearly every day! I'm not just, like, whining but not doing anything about it. I'm trying to fix it, but I can't exactly fucking do that if I can't talk to him!"

Clint nodded contemplatively. "I see."

Peter stared at him for a few more seconds, waiting for him to say anything else. When he didn't, the spider rolled his eyes and started to walk away. 

"Maybe you're being overbearing."

He stopped. "What?"

"You told him a lot of things, and it's good you apologized and everything, but you told him he was too available. So, maybe he's making himself unavailable."

Peter groaned. "I tried to take it back! I only said that because I thought he'd been cooking me dinner every night after seducing some government prick!"

"Doesn't matter. He's gotta deal with it."

A sigh. "Awesome. Okay. Then what do you propose I do? Clint, I- I'm at a loss, here." He was whispering now. "I don't want to lose him. Not like this."

Clint put a hand on his shoulder. "Give him a bit more time. Then? Go find him. But don't let it overtake you in the meantime."

-

Two weeks exactly. Well, two weeks and like, fourteen hours, before Peter Parker allowed himself to reach out to Wade again. He wanted space, so he got it. Peter had to respect that, after everything. But now? Now, he was just missing him, and he was sick of fighting. He was heeding Clint's advice, and he'd been working hard and staying on top of things. He kept the apartment cleaner than usual, and threw out the admittedly shitty instant coffee in favor of buying a new Keurig and actual coffee grinds. Which, considering he still lived like a broke college kid (he technically was, though more of a slightly-less-broke-grad-student), was a big deal. The real coffee made his stomach hurt, like, way less. He wondered why he'd ever drunk that nasty stuff before. (And if the thought that Wade would've been proud crossed his mind, that was fine. He didn't squash it. Immediately.)

He also joined a study group, which was new, but it felt kind of... nice. He knew that though he didn't mean the things he'd said to Wade the way he did, some of them had a little bit of truth- Wade just wasn't the one to blame for his dissatisfaction. Peter had felt limited, but he had just been scared of putting himself out there more than he already had. So he did. And he was better for it.

The Wednesday of the second week, Tony had come in and tossed something wrapped in foil onto Peter's worktable. Confused, he'd unwrapped it carefully, and then busted out laughing. It was a turkey sandwich. He'd shared it with Sam, as a truce for the 'accident'. There was little complaining from the winged hero's side.

So Peter was good. He was okay. He wasn't sleeping amazingly, but the dark circles that had frequented his eyes were no more, and he was comfortable- he just longed for something. He felt guilty, though it wasn't overtaking his life. No, he lived and let live, until the right time. 

Which was today. Because frankly, he was sick of waiting. He wanted his boyfriend back.

Among other progresses, Peter also had to come to terms with the fact that Deadpool may not want him back. Not exactly likely, but possible. After all, he'd gone weeks without a word (Peter had it on good authority from the other Avengers that despite the radio silence, the ex-merc was okay, and he just had to believe them), so it was plausible that he had decided he just didn't want the bullshit. The possibility terrified Peter, but there was nothing he could do about it. He just had to wait, and then do his best to make Deadpool see that he meant well.

He'd spent two weeks going over what he'd say to the man when he saw him, and yet he was completely unprepared when he did. Because he'd planned on finding Deadpool that night, but instead-

Wade had found him.

Peter was frozen, staring at the masked man, who was leaning against the long table of the meeting room, where Tony had asked Peter to run and grab a forgotten key. He'd been set up. (Tony was always meddling.) Deadpool noticed him come into the room and looked back from where he'd been gazing out the window. "Hiya."

After shrugging off the initial shock, Peter ran to the merc, slamming into him, arms thrown around the slightly taller man's shoulders. He was here. He came to me.

"Fucking finally," Peter breathed, holding tightly, the suit bunching up a bit under his skin. Deadpool returned the hug, a bit less enthusiastically, but warm all the same, and chuckled at the comment.

"It's only been a bit," the older said offhandedly, as if trying to be casual. Peter pulled back and scowled.

"No, it was two weeks." 

Wade grinned through the mask. "Almost sounds like you missed me."

"You'd know I did if you had answered any of my texts or calls."

Deadpool shifted uncomfortably, looking away from Peter's gaze. "Yeah, sorry. Got busy."

The younger cleared his throat. "You didn't." The other man peered back at him expeditiously. "Get busy, I mean. But it's okay. I didn't deserve your company."

Surprise covered the mask (it was easy to read by now). "Woah, Pete-"

"No, let me say this." He quieted. "You didn't tell me about Cable. That sucked, but it wasn't wholly relevant to begin with. Your past is yours and I'm not entitled to know everything about it. Not now," he looked into Deadpool's eyes, "and maybe not ever. That's okay. I'm not mad. I haven't been. So, that's resolved. I'm not pissed." He waited for acknowledgement. A small grin had formed on the other's lips, but he simply nodded. Peter continued. "But I said some things to you that I wish I could take back. I said them when I was... I was so hurt, so angry. I couldn't believe you'd done that to me, and then had the nerve to pretend like everything was normal. Of course," he laughed hollowly, "for you, it was."

"I hurt you. That was pretty obvious from the minute I rejected whatever you'd been cooking, which was a pain I've had to live with in itself, because that shit smelled so good. Like, I had to tear myself away. And for no reason! Honestly, that was true punishment already." Deadpool snorted at this, and Peter grinned, encouraged. "Anyways. I didn't really consider that I could've been wrong when I came home. Like, in my eyes, it was already 100% certain, you know? I was a little too quick to judge there, and I fucked everything up because of it. If I'd talked to you first- which, hey, for the record, is what Tony suggested, so don't be too pissed with him- things would've gone a lot differently. So for that, I'm sorry. We're always saying, communication, communication, communication, and yet I didn't even let it be an option till after the damage was done.

You mean so much to me. I could never regret dating you, even if you did cheat on me or something-" A shadow crossed Deadpool's face. "-because you made me so fucking happy. So when I said it, I guess I wanted to convince myself that it didn't mean anything to me, just like it apparently hadn't to you. But it was a lie. So sorry. And you weren't... overbearing. You weren't around too much. I was just mad because I was feeling caught in what I already knew. And. Um. I was pissed at myself for missing you when you weren't there so much, because I'd started thinking, you know, while I was missing you, maybe you were... Missing somebody else, I guess."

Wade opened his mouth, but nothing came out, and he closed it quickly, a worried look on his face. Peter wanted to reach out and smooth the crease in his brow, but he wasn't finished. "I joined a study group. It's really good for me. The apartment is pretty clean, and I started a photo diary. Which sounds geeky as hell, but Steve suggested it, and it's kind of cool." Peter smiled slightly. "I'm good. Better, because I was forced to think about what I was doing wrong. But you... you didn't do anything wrong. You were great for me, and I didn't really deserve you, certainly not now. But that doesn't change the fact that I'm sorry, and I miss you horribly. Not in a bad way! Or. Kind of in a bad way. Because missing you isn't great. But I'm not, like mad at it or anything. Just... healthy... wishing you were with me. Because you make me happy. And I wish we'd never been fighting. And I really, really, really don't want to lose you after we were so great and-"

"Peter."

He stopped. "Um. Yes."

"That's a lot for just two weeks."

The half-spider considered this. "Huh. I guess you're right." He grinned. "Is that a bad thing?"

Deadpool shrugged. "No. Not if you're happy. And you seem to be."

The smile melted off of the hero's face. "Did you-"

"Miss all of what you just said about being happy but missing me? No. I heard it loud and clear." Peter's heart sunk from the tone the man in front of him was using. He swallowed the weird lump of disappointment in his throat and plastered on a smile.

"Right! Okay. Got it. That's, ah. That's okay. I understand completely. I just wanted-" He faltered. "I just wanted to make sure you knew. I guess." His face burned, but he refused to give into it. He was twenty-four fucking years old. He wasn't going to act embarrassed. Even if he did feel like his heart was being chopped to timber.

Deadpool watched him for a minute, then reached up. He took off the mask, and Peter felt his breath hitch, because those piercing blue eyes were looking at him once again, and he'd missed it. God, he'd missed it. But it didn't matter, because Wade hadn't missed him.

"Peter. I'm afraid that you aren't gonna tell me how you're really feeling when you're feeling it. That you'll keep going on because nothing is really wrong, but that deep down, you'll be unhappy. Or angry."

The spider-man bit his lip. "I don't do that. I mean, seriously. I don't keep much to myself when I'm pissed." He smirked.

But Wade didn't smile with him. "I'm serious. I don't know if I can... trust this." He gestured generally between them. Peter exhaled with nerves pumping. 

"You can. It's a work in progress, but it's never been something we've worried about before. I need you to get that I was just really hurt." The other nodded, a bit rapidly. "I do. I know that. You can stop apologizing for it. I've said shit I didn't mean before too." He smiled crookedly. "And hey. Sorry I went off about you hating me and shit. Kinda assumptuous." Peter frowned, because this was something they'd been over before, but he was waved off. "I'm kidding. But I shouldn't have yelled. Like you," he said, coming closer to where Peter was standing, "I was just upset."

Peter's heart was racing a mile a minute; he didn't want to dare hope in case this blew up in his face, but he couldn't help it. "So..."

Wade looked amused. "So..."

"What now?"

The taller shrugged. "Dunno. You got somethin' in mind, babycakes?"

Despite the final appearance of a pet name being encouragement, Peter took in a nervous breath. "Yeah," he breathed out lowly. "Something like this." He closed the short distance between them, pulling Wade in by the front of his suit, and pressed their lips together. Wade placed a hand on Peter's hip, but Peter pulled away for fear of pushing it. He beamed at the other, who scrutinized him, and he let it happen. Then, without another word, Wade pulled him back in, this time his other hand coming up to cup the back of his neck. This kiss was longer, more desperate, full of things they weren't saying despite the mass of words that had been shared between them. The way Wade's mouth moved against his spoke for itself, and it was saying, come back to me. Peter kissed him back with every intent of answering. I never left. 

-

Peter would not admit this to absolutely anybody that asked, but he ran up the steps to his apartment.

Not usually, just today, so he could get in faster, because he was practically thrumming with excitement. Wade had been gone for three days with next to no cell service, so he'd gotten one call early in the morning before Peter went to work that was less than three minutes long. Peter had barely seen him the day he'd left, too, so really, it'd been four days, and he was ecstatic, because Wade'd promised to meet him at his apartment after 3. Even better, Peter had no classes for the break (which was slightly aggravating when you had a thesis to work on, but he wasn't complaining in this instance) so he was stress-free and obligation-free, since Stark had relieved him after Thor had accidentally blown up the proton infuser they'd been working on for the last six weeks. Peter still hadn't wholly processed that fact, but it was fine. He'd deal with that trauma later.

Right now, he had a boyfriend to greet.

He opened the front door breathlessly. "Babe?" He called out, dropping his bag on the floor near the TV. "I'm home! Hoping you are too!" He poked his head into the living room to find Deadpool getting up from the couch. He grinned and trotted over casually, pretending he hadn't ran all the way up. He looked up, snaking his arms around Pool's shoulders. "Hey there," he said happily. Deadpool smiled beneath the mask.

"Hello to you too." 

Peter lifted the red just enough to properly kiss him, which wasn't of much use anyways, because they both kept smiling into it. "Stop it," Peter whined good-naturedly, to which the taller pecked him once more.

"Can't help it," he responded, winking. He pulled Peter over to the couch, where they sat down, Peter residing in Deadpool's lap. "How're you?"

Peter ran a hand through his hair to get it out of his face. "Better now that you're here," he said softly, smiling equally so. "How about you? How'd the job go?" There was a bit of worry laced into his tone.

In reassurance, the older's hand settled above his waist. "The job was easy. Didn't even maim nobody, really." Deadpool tried not to sound disappointed, but still got swatted anyways. He snickered. "Nothing exciting happened, other than I got some nasty food poisoning from this little quesadilla stand. I'm doin' just fine, baby boy."

Peter's breath slowed.

Wade had refrained from pet names since the night they argued, even when they were back on the same page. Peter had brought it up once, saying that it was okay, but all he'd gotten was a nod and little change. There was a 'sweetums' now and again, but typically, it was a joke, a mockery, or just being silly. Not really like he meant it, anymore, which had had Peter worrying for weeks. Eventually he let it go, and tried not to be disappointed, figuring that not everything could go back to how it was, but now here they were, and Wade had called him baby boy.

Ironically, Peter used to despise the name. Still did, but it meant something, and he'd never been more happy to hear it.

He'd forgotten how to breathe, and Wade snapped his fingers lightly against his back. "Hello, Earth to Parker," he singsonged. Peter blinked at him. "You okay?"

Peter nodded. "Yeah, totally. 100% okay. Doing great."

The ex-merc frowned. "Sorry, should I not have-"

The hero's eyes widened almost comically. "No! No, no, no. You should have. Like, absolutely. I'm thrilled. I'm on cloud nine. Never been better. Really happy. Really..." he sighed silently. "Relieved."

Deadpool cocked his head. "Relieved?"

"Yeah. I mean... you haven't called me anything in ages." Peter smirked a bit self-consciously. "Thought, y'know, terms of endearment, you aren't all that endeared lately."

The man stared blankly at the brown-haired superhero. "Wait," he said, almost sounding puzzled. "You want me to call you that shit?"

Peter's face grew red. "Well- I- I- you know what? We can just-"

"... I thought you hated them?"

He stopped stumbling for an answer. "No," he answered faintly. "I never really did. And when you stopped, I guess I.. I missed it."

"You told me not to call you anything."

"The night we were fighting?"

"Yeah."

Peter moved his hands from Deadpool's shoulders to rub at his face. "I was pissed," he said. "Just like with everything else I said." Wade hummed. "I mean, it doesn't matter, I guess, but it doesn't. You know. Bother me. Or anything."

The older grinned. "You love it."

The part-spider groaned, ducking his head into his boyfriend's shoulder. "No. Okay. Whatever." A rumble resounded through Wade's body and Peter poked him. "Shut up."

Wade kissed Peter's shoulder through his T-shirt. "Whatever you say, angelface."

"Oh, my God."

The sound of Wade's laughter made the younger feel like he'd finally come home. And if he pulled closer still, relaxing into the embrace and the contentment of having the other man in his arms, well.

He might admit that.


End file.
